My Heart Dog, Eva

My heart-dog, Eva, a 6?-year-old German Shepherd, died on April 30, 2014, and I am devastated and miss her desperately. The days seem to stretch on ahead of me endlessly - such a long lifetime ahead to spend missing her.

We rescued Eva. I'll refrain from commenting on the rescue organization itself, apart from mentioning that she was an adult German Shepherd who weighed 53lb at intake and, 2 weeks into her stay at their kennel, was barely 42lb. As it turned out, she had exocrine pancreatic insufficiency, which we began treating immediately.

Within her first 24 hours at our home, she had snapped at my husband without warning. Within a couple of days, she had begun to exhibit aggression towards other dogs, which was a problem because we rented in a large dog-friendly community. But I knew from the start that I couldn't bring her back to the rescue she'd come from; she was days away from starving to death by the time we adopted her. Besides, she had already bonded very strongly to me. In the early days, because of her EPI, I was taking her out to poo 10-12 times throughout the night, every night. I slept on the couch next to her crate, I trained her, I played with her. We became close very quickly. Eva's teeth had been crudely and cruelly cut off and filed down, and she was at least 4 years old with swollen nipples that indicated recent pregnancy. She had not had a good life, and yet she learned to trust me.

We tried endless methods to work on her aggression, both towards my husband and towards other dogs. We worked with two behaviorists, read every book we could get our hands on, and tried a variety of remedial training methods: counter-conditioning, BAT, LAT, positive reinforcement only, and finally, positive reinforcement + prong collar corrections. Nothing worked. Then, we discovered that she was aggressive towards children. We were/are still renting, just in a different location, and children (not to mention other dogs) are not 100% avoidable, but still, I was determined. I decided to get up every morning at 4:30 to walk and exercise her, then run her out again right before work, have my husband walk her at 11AM and 2PM, and I walked her again at 7PM (always risky/scary/traumatic), and finally one more time at midnight. It was stressful and I was sleep-deprived (and I always dreaded the weekends, when children and other dogs were everywhere), but it was okay; at least I still had my Eva. She had bad anxiety and panic attacks, but we could not treat her with anti-anxiety medication because it would decrease her bite inhibition, making her more dangerous. Still, she loved me and I love her.

But then she was diagnosed with GI cancer. She had to go out constantly during the day, and nearly hourly at night (she would wake me up at 1AM, 2:30 AM, 3:30 AM, then we'd be out at 4:30 AM, then again at 6AM...this was a dog who had never woken me up for any reason other than pain/distress, and now she needed to walk for an hour plus in order to poop). And we were running into other dogs more, of course, which was stressful to her. Her reaction was aggressive but it was fueled by fear...

She lost her appetite; she would only eat when hand-fed the most enticing food (chicken breast ). If I threw the ball, her favorite toy, most of the time she would just watch it roll. She was never able to turn down a play session before. She even stopped following me everywhere, when before, she had been my shadow, wherever I went, even into the very scary shower. She was in pain. She did not want to leave my side; it was even more pronounced than ever before. If I went to the bathroom, she would wedge herself between the toilet and the wall to remain as close to me as possible. She would pace and pant all night, her stools were bloody....

It was the combination of working around her aggression AND her cancer that was impossible. It just wasn't possible. And I wouldn't have minded if she went to the bathroom indoors, but her history of abuse and neglect made it incredibly stressful for her to have an accident, even though on the two occasions that she had an accident, my husband and I didn't react at all.

It was making her miserable. Miserable inside, pacing and panting and trying to move around to ease her GI pain; miserable outside, unable to poop (I walked 6+ hours/day multiple times trying to help her ease one out), distressed greatly by other dogs and children, anxious, fearful, completely lacking an appetite, devoid of energy....

So my husband made the decision to have her euthanized. I demanded that we have the vet (the vet that I was most comfortable with) come to us, regardless of the cost. We made the appointment for 4/30, and I took a week off of work to spend every moment with Eva. We went on nice slow ambly walks in our favorite spots, I hand-fed her anything she would eat, we napped together, got up at 4AM to go to the park and wake up all the deer and bunnies, we stayed up all night so that we could have stress-free, dog-free, child-free walks. I let her chew and chew on her favorite toy - a tennis ball made out of a giant squeaker and produced by Kong. We took a ride to my hometown.

On the 30th, I got up at 4AM and we went for our normal 2-hour jaunt at the local park to wake up all the deer and bunnies and birds... that walk flew so fast; before I knew it, it was 6AM and I brought her home to rest... she slept until 9AM and I just watched her and stroked her and loved on her and fought my desire to wake her up -- I knew our time together was so short. At 9AM we went for a ride to our other favorite park, then to my hometown, then before I knew it, it was 12 and I realized I only had an hour to get home and give her her first ever McDonalds meal. I got her chicken nuggets and a burger and she wouldn't touch either of them, but luckily I also had a couple of lbs of chicken breast....

I was feeding her that chicken when the vet arrived. She ate at least a full pound of chicken breast

As I fed her, the vet injected the sedative into her flank. I tried so hard not to cry, and I managed not to sob, at least. I didn't want to scare her. The shot didn't seem to hurt her.. she turned around and sniffed the needle after the vet removed it. I told my husband to pull down her blanket from the couch so she could lay on it, and he did, and I sat on a corner of it and she came and laid down right in front of me. I stroked her head and her ears and her neck and talked to her... I told her how much I loved her, and how glad I was that she was in my life, and that she was a good girl. I couldn't say anything else - I would've started sobbing. I looked in her eyes the whole time they were open and she gazed into mine. Then the vet determined she was sufficiently sedated and had me move to lay behind Eva -- we always used to "spoon" on the floor and on the "Eva sofa." The vet shaved her foreleg and found a vein and injected that bright blue liquid... time slowed to a crawl and I felt like she was injecting it into both of us. I don't remember exactly what happened, but I know Eva "sighed" one last time and then the vet checked her and said, "I'm sorry; there is no heartbeat" and that's when I knew it was OK to start crying....

I just miss her so, so much, and I wonder how many more weeks or months she could have had... but I didn't want her to descend into the pits of misery; I wanted her to have a few good days, after so many years of misery with her previous "owner[s]".... she didn't deserve to suffer anymore, not even for one more minute. But then I ask myself the impossible question -- if she could have talked, would she have wanted the weeks or months of misery, because she would have wanted to be alive and with me?

I miss her all the time. She was my constant companion. I miss her sighs, her "old man groans," her silly parrot mouth and underbite, her one floppy ear, her goofy personality, the way she used to "flea-bite" me, "spooning" with her, wrestling with her, playing fetch, watching her track beavers and possoms, watching her gently herd our cat.... I miss coming home to her greetings, I miss calling her onto my lap during scary movies, I miss coming out of the shower to see her laying alongside the tub, I miss having to step over her because she slept right next to my side of the bed.... I miss giving her a new treat or toy and watching her nudge it around with her nose before tentatively biting, then nudging it around some more....

So much more to say, but I fear this post is already incredibly long.

I miss you, Eva girl, Eva-doo. I desperately hope I see you again somewhere, somehow. I love you forever - always have, always will